


Through the Years

by cold_flame



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, I didn't wanna tag the other paladins really because they only make cameos at the end, gen Keith birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 14:31:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16389515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cold_flame/pseuds/cold_flame
Summary: Keith's birthday at 9, 12, 17, 18, 20, and 25.They all had an impact one way or another, for better or for worse.





	Through the Years

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited and unbetaed so go easy on me. I also may have shamelessly projected my love for brunch food onto Keith so sorry not sorry.

Keith woke by an icy breeze coming through his window. He’d left it open yesterday as it tended to get stuffy, but it was mid-October and the desert could get cold, so his room currently felt like an ice cube. He huddled under his thick comforter and wrapped himself in the warm cotton like a cocoon. As he shrouded himself in whatever warmth was left over, he heard a crash from down the hall as someone swore lightly. It wasn’t too long after that the smell of bacon began to fill his room, and his mouth started to water. He glared at the traitorous window as he was forced to stay in his nest should he freeze to death.

He felt himself start to doze off again when a deep voice startled him awake.

“Good Lord, Keith, you tryin’ to turn into an icycle?” his dad asked. Keith poked the top half of his head out to reply.

“Sorry, Dad, I forgot it was open.” His father just tsked in response.

“Well, I made brunch. Don’t want it to get cold.”

“I don’t want _me_ to get cold either,” Keith said drily. His dad just raised an amused quirk of the brow. Before Keith could do or say anything more, he felt himself rising from the bed as the man tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of flour, comforter and all. He attempted to struggle out because he could by himself perfectly fine thank you, but once was a few minutes ago, his safe haven, became his prison as his legs and arms were perfectly stuck inside the the thick cloth.

As he was set gently down in front of the table, his eyes bulged out of his skull at the sight in front of him. What he saw sitting on that table could only be described as a feast. A plate full of bacon and sausage, a little undercooked how he liked it, a stack of huge fluffy pancakes, and biscuits with homemade sausage gravy, it was a true sight for Keith’s eyes. Like something out of those picture books his dad used to read to him.

He looked at the tall man sitting across from him, waiting for the joke to come. He knew he must look ridiculous, wrapped up like some strange, lumpy burrito with his mouth hanging open.

“This...this is all for me?” he asked in awe.

“Sure is, kiddo.” Keith’s eyes brightened immediately, and as his stomach growled impatiently, he wasted no time in digging right in.

“Whatcha think? Your old man did alright?”

The boy nodded his head vigorously, “This is incredible,” he said between mouthfuls, “Thank you, Dad.”

He giggled as he felt a large hand sweep in to ruffle his hair, and pushed away out of reflex.

“Happy birthday, Keith.”

* * *

 

Victoria had been working for the foster home for over a decade. She had seen all different kinds of children from all different situations, some worse than others, but all of them tragic. No child should ever be without a family. She looked at the small boy sitting next to her, returned by the family he had been residing with up until now. She tried not to let the disappointment show as he curled within himself, his mess of wavy black hair falling in his eyes.

“Keith,” she got his attention. Despite the soft tone, he still flinched as if she’d yelled. “What happened?”

“Didn’t you hear?” he spit out bitterly, sounding much too tired for someone so young, “I had a fight with her son. I’m no good.”

Victoria sighed. She knew from experience she wouldn’t get anywhere with him like this. She never really got the chance to know him that well from her 20 other charges, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t sense a storm brewing in that small exterior. Or that she didn’t notice the other kids tended to avoid him, whether out of fear or resentment, or both.

“I’m not mad, Keith.” she tried to reassure him. And she wasn’t.

“You’re just disappointed?” he finished wryly, almost unfazed. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” Probably from his teachers if she had to guess. The kid had been homeschooled and from what she could gather, incredibly sheltered up until the incident last year. Just him and his father living alone in a desert. What a lonely lifestyle. Coming to a home surrounded by others had to be a culture shock.

“I understand this year has been rough,” understatement of the century, “but I really do think that if you just put forth a little more effort, you could find a family that fits you. You’re only ten. You still have plenty of time.”

Keith only stared ahead, not meeting her eyes, and she thought maybe he didn’t hear her. As she pondered repeating herself, he muttered “I’m twelve.”

“Pardon?”

“I turned twelve last week,” he mumbled sadly. Oh. _Oh._ She felt a wave of sadness and embarrassment on his behalf.

“Happy late birthday then,” she said with false cheer. He only continued to stare ahead blankly.

* * *

 

Keith had been attempting to study, music blaring in his ears to drown anything out, and so people wouldn’t get the idea to try and socialize, not that they typically did that anyway. So even though he didn’t hear the slide of the chair next to him, he got the feeling that he was no longer alone. He turned around to glare at his intruder but relaxed when he saw the smug face of Shiro. He slid one earpod out.

“Oh. Hey.” Shiro cocked an amused eyebrow and Keith started to grow hot with embarrassment as he looked at the mess of giant textbooks scattered across the table.

“Studying hard, huh?” Shiro asked.

“I guess so,” he muttered.

Shiro smirked again, and retrieved something from his messenger bag. It was a thin package, crudely wrapped.

“I got something for you.”

Keith made no move to touch the object, and could only stare dumbly.

“Um...why?”

He realized it may have been the wrong thing to say as he saw Shiro’s face fall in disappointment, but the older boy quicky schooled it back into a grin.

“It’s your birthday!” he announced.

“Well yeah, but why did you give me a present?”

Shiro looked almost sad at that. It wasn’t a look that suited him. “You’re my friend, Keith,” he explained gently,  “That’s what friends do.”

Oh. Keith felt a wave of emotions hit him all at once. He picked at the package gingerly, careful not to wreck the fragile paper too much. He could feel Shiro practically vibrating with anticipation next to him as he threw the last of paper to his other side.

“Are these…?” he trailed off. It was a pair of black gloves, fingers cut off, with padding on the palms.

“They’re professional. I’m sure your hands are covered in callouses so it’s meant to protect them,” Shiro waxed off proudly like he was in some weird infomercial ad. The older boy shifted uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Do you like them? You’re a hard guy to buy presents for.”

Keith felt the telltale sting behind his eyes as he held the gloves delicately to his chest.

“They’re perfect,” he choked out, “Thank you.”

“What do you say we ditch this place and test em out?”

Keith nodded mutely, his voice lodged in his throat.

It was only after they returned from their race, which he lost as usual, that he got curious.

“Wait a second,” he looked at Shiro accusingly, “How did you know when my birthday was?”

Shiro, damn him, didn’t even have the gall to look guilty. “It’s my job as your superior officer to know about my cadets.”

“So, you snooped through my file then,” Keith translated monotonously.

“Yep.”

“Isn’t that kind of an abuse of your power, _sir_?” he asked mockingly. Shiros eyes glinted dangerously and Keith knew he was in for it. He tried to make room, but Shiro was faster as he pulled him in, an arm slung around his shoulder, and the other in his hair, knuckles digging in.

“Knock it off,” Keith laughed, “I’m not a kid.”

“That’s true. You’re like 12 now right?” Shiro teased.

Keith shoved him, and if Shiro was surprised about being off balance so easily, he didn’t show it.

* * *

 

A year passed since then. He was eighteen and Shiro was at Kerberos. It came and it passed. Just like any other day.

* * *

 

Keith was skinning the a strange bug like creature as the fire kindled. It had been roughly about a month since he’d gotten stuck on this strange space whale with his mother. His mother. He still had a hard time wrapping his head around that.

“You’re 20 now, right?” the woman in question snuck up behind him.

“Something like that,” he grunted, peeling off a particularly hard piece of carapace. “I lost track a while ago.”

He watched out of the corner of his eye, as her features, so eerily similar to his own, scrunched in thought.

“We should celebrate,” she stated simply. He frowned.

“You..” he started carefully, “You don’t have to force yourself.” He averted his eyes. “I’ve never really celebrated my birthday anyway.”

“I want to,” she said almost forcefully. Her face expressed a rare form of vulnerability and stubbornness that he knew he wasn’t gonna be able to trump.

“So how do the Galra celebrate birthdays?” he asked shyly, extending a metaphorical olive branch. He didn’t miss the way her eyes lit up, though the rest of her face remained impassive.

“Galra live much longer than humans and our ‘years’ are a bit shorter than yours, so celebrating every year would be a nuisance.”

He hummed in response, only vaguely wondering where she was going with this.

“Instead,” she continued, “ we do have certain rituals to celebrate every hectapheeb milestone.”

He furrowed his brow in concentration. “Hectapheeb...that’s like ten years?”

“More or less,” she shrugged.

“So is there a ritual for turning 20?”

She smiled softly, genuine and a little sad, as Keith squirmed uncomfortably.

“There is.”

The ritual involved taking down some kind of creature as a rite of passage as a warrior. But as there wasn’t much they could control about their location, they had to improvise. He found a lobster-spider hybrid creature almost twice the size of him and he saw Krolia beam proudly as he slid underneath it with ease and slashed its underside. At the very least, they wouldn’t be going hungry anytime soon.

“I see Kolivan’s taught you well,” she pointed out, as she poked the fire with a stick, both of them now sitting and watching their food cook.

Keith said neutrally, “He always tells me I’m too reckless.”

“He used to say similar things to me.”

It grew silent as the meat cooked, the crackling fire the only noise. It was a comfortable silence, neither of them particularly talkative people. He was tired, both physically and emotionally, but for once, he felt content.

“Thank you,” he whispered. She didn’t respond, but one glance at her expression told him everything he needed to know.

* * *

“Just a few more steps.” He heard the soft voice in his ear. He grumbled impatiently.

“Shiro, c’mon, what’s going on?” He attempted to bring his sight back.

“No peeking!” Shiro scolded. Keith crossed his arms and pouted, as he continued to walk forward, the hand on his lower back gently guiding him.

“Aaaaannd,” Shiro drawled, “we’re here.” Keith squinted as the light invaded his now uncovered eyes. It took a few seconds before he could take in the sight before him. The table filled with breakfast food, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and right in the center, sitting pretty, was a platter filled with a stack of red velvet donuts with a giant candle perched in the middle.

“What is this?” he breathed.

“It’s for you, man,” he heard another voice behind him. He whipped around as he saw all the other Paladins lined up, along with Coran, Romelle, his mom, and Kolivan.

Hunk stepped up first, the one who’d spoken up.

“You’ve done so much for us, Keith. For the whole universe. So today, we’re celebrating _you_.” He gestured to the table. Keith looked back at Shiro and relaxed as he saw the soft smile.

“After you, birthday boy,” Shiro whispered.

Keith sat down, carefully grabbing a donut from the top. He took a bite and stifled a moan.

“ _Holy shit_.”

“Okay well Keith had his, so now I wanna try. I’ve been waiting for hours!” Lance whined.

Keith put his arms around the plate, petty delight sparking in his chest. “Back off, they’re mine.”

It was like a wave of relief and relaxation fell over the group, as everyone suddenly started to crowd around him, Pidge grabbing his arm, Hunk slumped over his back, and Lance practically in his lap as he vindictively holds the donuts just out of his reach.

Eventually the swarm dissipated as his mom made her way through, no one daring to challenge her.

She cupped his cheeks in her large hands, smiling at him with a fondness he was finally starting to get used to.

“I’m so proud of you, Keith. Happy birthday.” She brushed her lips across his forehead, and he felt the sting of tears. He sniffled traitorously.

“Oh shit, is he crying?” he heard someone (probably Lance) whisper. He ducked his face in his hands, heat flooding his cheeks as he flipped his middle finger.

“I think he’s good,” Pidge said drily, and they all crowded him again, in some sort of disjointed group hug. Whereas before he would’ve felt stifled, he only just felt warmth.

It was a good birthday.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me about Voltron on [tumblr](http://waitformethistime.tumblr.com)


End file.
